


The Stars and Beyond

by Pandamilo, Vixen13



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Art, Changing POV, Growing Up, Inner Dialogue, Introspection, Other, Prompt Fic, Sorry Not Sorry, Stars, changes, comparison, enjoy my purple prose, i like space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandamilo/pseuds/Pandamilo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen13/pseuds/Vixen13
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov was always aiming for the stars. Fighting for his chance to become one, only to realise it wasn't everything he wanted.Yuri Plisetsky watched Viktor's ascent, promising he would burn brighter, be better, than Viktor ever hoped to be.





	1. Constellations On Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Here is our bing fic's based on "compare". Vixen and I worked together on the alternate views of comparing the ever quirky, Viktor to celestial bodies.  
> [Please note, I am a ViKtor purest and Xiven is a ViCtor heathen (her own words, not mine XD) so the first chapter is k, second is c, you've been warned, deal with it XP]  
> Also featured is the AMAZING artwork by Ingthing <3  
> (links to all our tumblrs/contacts will be at the end of the fic)

You know when you go outside on a clear night and you can see the stars?

They twinkle and light up what would otherwise be a blank sheet of darkness featuring different phases of the bleached-out moon. But other nights you look up at that very same sky and there are fewer stars, fewer beacons of sparkling light beaming down on you.

It isn’t as if the sky changed. It was the world that moved, lit up or plunged into darkness. Like when the sky in the country-side feels ten times brighter, but in the short distance from there to the city, only the biggest, brightest stars can ever hope to be seen.

A sky of _billions_ , all working together to create something breathtaking, and yet…

We only know a select few.

~*~

When Viktor was younger, his parents took him on a trip to their dacha in the middle of nowhere, at least a twenty minute drive from any town. The first night they stayed there, Viktor had been so _shocked_. The entire sky was brilliantly lit up, beaming down on them, millions upon billions of twinkling stars that almost made it feel like daytime again.

Viktor had fought sleep every night for each of the five they'd stayed, trying to memorize those constellations so he could take them back home and find them again. He felt _excited,_ burning with passion and intrigue at all the possible little stars in their galaxy; he tried to sear their existence into his memory.

But no matter how hard he tried, the sky never looked quite the same once he was home again, even if he knew how it _should_ look. The sky in his city was darker, so many less individual, unique little balls of shimmering gas to see. He spent years hating that sight, wishing he was powerful enough to shut off all of the city's lights so he could watch as the sky grew and grew, expanding and revealing so much more than what it seemed to now.

He couldn’t do it—  nor could he hold onto the memory of it like he had hoped. He eventually blocked out the concept.

Viktor grew up, started skating, training, working hard to make something of himself. He skated because he loved it but he couldn’t deny, in the beginning, that he also loved the attention, the praise and almost _worship_ of his very existence. He was who other skaters looked up to, both in the literal and metaphorical sense of the word. As a repeated world champion, he stood on the podium looking down at all the others, a smile plastered on his face with pride; inspired or jealous eyes staring back up at him.

At least, he used to smile... the pride, the honour and warmth that used to thrum through his being when he stood on that podium slowly faded. It wasn’t an immediate process, it was gradual, so gradual Viktor didn’t fully understand it for a long time. He simply brushed it off and pulled his winning smile back on his recognisable face.

_Shine bright._

_Stand out._

In every light polluted city, big or small, everywhere he went Viktor was _expected_ to be bright, expected to be _Viktor Nikiforov_ , figure skater, repeated gold medalist, always smiling. It had started to drag him down, a slow and gradual dulling of his heart; his insides darkened against his will. He started to doubt who he was, what he was. He knew what he could do and how to do it so there was no way _anyone_ could possibly outshine him, yet he felt empty, unsatisfied, unfinished.

It wasn’t until he stood, staring blankly out the big bay windows of his high-rise apartment and casually running his fingers along the warm heater of a dog in his lap, that he realized something was missing.

Those few stars, so many fewer than Viktor knew were really there, twinkled in his window and he looked at them with disdain. They weren’t alone, or special, or anything in particular at all—  they simply happened to be just that little bit brighter so they could still be seen over all the brightness of the city lights.

The city made them what they were. Fuzzy, out of shape speckles, molded into what the masses thought they should be. A single star to wish upon. There was no vast expansion of possibility, no brilliant brightness that happened when millions of stars collected all together.

When only a few stars could be seen, stand out, it meant that an ocean of people controlled what light they could give off. That idea sat heavy in Viktor’s chest, curling and unfurling in confusion as he wrestled with what had been slowly working its way into his body, tainting him.

_Viktor._

That’s all he was, all he _is._ Nothing more, nothing less.

Not this thing others had decided he was, he might be in the spotlight more than others, but it didn’t make them any less _there_. And he was still like them, just another person, one in billions.

Was it too much to ask?

To just be Viktor?

Was it so much to ask, just to be surrounded by the beauty, light and inspiration of others?

* * *

 

Pandamilo - author of chapter one can be found[ here](https://pandamilo.tumblr.com/)

Vixen - chapter two author [here](https://thatvixenchick.tumblr.com/)

Ingthing - amazing artist! can be found [here](http://ingthing.tumblr.com/)


	2. The Hertzsprung-Russel Diagram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hertzsprung-Russel Diagram is the life cycle of a star because I'm a nerrrrd. Enjoy.

At thirteen, Victor broke the rules and executed his first quad in competition. He had pulled his body in tight, his hair rapidly spinning around him in a blur, his glittering costume lit up by the bright lights of the rink. He looked like a comet hurtling through space, a shimmering luminescence trailing in his wake.

A shooting star that everyone gasped and marveled over. It was a single move, gone in an instant, but forever burned into their memories.

Seared into Yuri’s memory.

The first time Yuri saw a shooting star, he’d made a wish. He wanted to be the best in all of Russia. It was unfair that that same comet seemed to have descended to earth just to mock him by being the most captivating thing on the ice that Yuri had ever set eyes on.

Well, Yuri loved a challenge. He would just have to learn how to burn brighter than a comet.

At fifteen, Victor learned how to _linger._ He would glide across the ice in long languid movements, his legs flowing in a hypnotizing routine, and his long, long hair trailed behind him in a fluttering of silver. Cosmic dust, collected but unformed, a colorful blend of potential that took on whatever shape the imagination wanted of it. Victor had a way of giving himself over to the audience and being what they desired, both on and off the ice.

Yuri was not that.

He couldn’t present himself as something formless that was waiting to be molded. He wanted to _take._ He wanted to _burn._ He understood why it was best to stay in the minds of those who saw him, but he couldn’t be what Victor was. So Yuri chose a different path, deciding for the first time to be something _better_ than Victor Nikiforov.

For comets were memorable and cosmic dust held potential, but the moon was the first thing anyone saw in the night sky. So that was what Yuri would aspire to be. Bright and steady like the moon, the first thing people thought of when they imagined the dark expanse of space above them.

Yuri Plisetsky, the first skater people thought of when they imagined figure skating.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Victor wasn’t finished with having an impact on the figure skating world. At the age of twenty, he skated a routine that nobody would have thought possible. It was a collection of jumps and step sequences that flowed one into the other, but each with its own unique flair that stood out. A supercluster of ideas, each part its own galaxy with its own special story to tell.

It occurred to Yuri that the moon was consistent, but it was not _new._ It was taken for granted that it would always be there, but it rarely caught people’s attention. Victor had realized that. New was something that kept one in sight, that made sure a person stayed relevant.

Once more, Yuri had to up his game. He couldn’t be complacent and he couldn’t wait until he was older to try and outdo Victor Nikiforov. To beat Victor, one had to be prepared to go beyond the stars.

So Yuri considered what it was that he wanted from himself. He wanted to be so bright that he would blind the competition, but not so consistent that he was taken for granted. But then, stars too bright hid everything else around them, which meant that nobody would fully understand the glory of the person on top. It was a fine balance he would have to achieve.

Yuri wondered if Victor had considered that. He was a rising star, burning too bright and too fast. But old stars become red giants, they grow and grow until they use up all their reserves and collapse. Victor might know full well that was his fate, like that of hundreds of other skaters, peeking in their prime before falling into obscurity. Yuri, however, had no intention of taking that course.

If Victor had taught Yuri anything, it was that the world constantly wanted to experience something never seen before. The universe has always been ever-expansive, new stunning things to be discovered and explored. All Yuri had to do was represent that expanse of the universe. Beyond Earth’s blue sky, possibilities were limitless, with constant potential for Yuri to pull from.

So when Yuri faced his last competition as a junior, he watched Victor in all his dying splendor. He was beautiful and always would be, but his potential was burning away and he knew it. The glorious death of a star. Next season Yuri would prove that by bursting into seniors competition floor as a full galaxy of potential, bright and ready for a long run of glory.

It was Yuri’s turn to dance among the cosmos.


End file.
